


It's The End of The Night (And I'm Your Only Option)

by heterophobe



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Addiction, Extra-Ordinary: My Life as Number Seven, Gen, Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Klaus Hargreeves-centric, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:00:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28921731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heterophobe/pseuds/heterophobe
Summary: He’s so tired. He’s been walking for hours. He just wants to lie down.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves
Comments: 10
Kudos: 80





	It's The End of The Night (And I'm Your Only Option)

Klaus Hargreeves is pretty sure he’s dead. Well, not dead in the technical sense. More like, dead in the abstract, end-of-the-night sense. Like a party, after all the people have dispersed and the thumpa-thumpa has mellowed out.

He’s tired, letting his own life unfold in front of him with the enthusiasm of a hungover 21-year-old picking up red-solo cups. While the never-ending rollercoaster of chemical assistance means there’s lots of hard-and-fast mood changes to dramatise it all, the reality of his so-called “life” is monotonous and mind-numbing in a bone-deep, and uncomfortable way.

Really, he might as well be one of the ghosts he works so tirelessly to keep at bay.

This is his third night in a row without a place to sleep. It can be fun sometimes: The surge of urgency, perspiration, creative solutions. Hell, even the adrenaline-rush and dopamine-high of B&E sometimes perks him up. Now, though, as he wobbles down the ugly-side of a three-day up, Ben hovering over his shoulder like a disapproving father, and the crack-whip-sting of winter setting in through his overcoat. He’s so tired. He’s been walking for hours. 

He just wants to lie down.

—

“Klaus,” He hears distantly, “Klaus, you need to get up. You can’t sleep here tonight, it’s too cold.”  


“Take it up with my agent,” Klaus murmurs into his hands.

“Klaus,” Ben says, a little firmer now.

“Yeah, okay, okay.” He shoos, his voice breathy and defeated. Klaus leans his head back against the dumpster, eyes screwed shut as he breathes, taking a moment to recollect himself. He balls his hands up under his arms.

Ben looks on, still standing, arms crossed as he waits.

“Where?” Klaus relents, knowing his head isn’t on straight enough to do much other than walk aimlessly and hope to stumble across somewhere safe to spend the night.

“There’s a payphone at the end of the street, and Vanya lives—”

“No go, Benerino.” Klaus interrupts, narrowing his eyes stubbornly. Ben knows his stance on siblings.

Ben sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He might not feel the cold, but he certainly feels frustration just as bitingly being out here with Klaus night after night. “It’s been almost two years, Klaus.”  


“Yeah, well, here’s to two more.” Klaus laughs, a hysteric edge to his voice. He pulls an almost-empty flask out of his jacket pocket and unscrews the lid, offering it up in toast. The whiskey settles warmly in his chest.

Ben raises his eyebrow, condescending. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

“She thinks,” He places his hand on his chest, making a show of how touched he is, “I’m an addict.”

“You _are_ an addict.”

“Well… _yeah_ , but she didn’t have to announce it so forevevently fer-rer-vr…,” Klaus slurs and stumbles over the final word. His eyebrows pinch with frustration. He eventually gives up, waving his hand dismissively, “Oh, You know.”

“No.” Ben says plainly, “I don’t.”

Klaus makes a high pitched noise in protest, and lets his head lull back once more, flush against the dumpster. He grimaces when his bare neck makes contact with the freezing metal.

“Shelters are closed by now, so it’s Vanya or freeze to death.” Ben summarises, matter-of-fact as ever. It’s clear his well of Klaus-related patience is running dry for the evening. “Or, you could apologise to Diego.”

“Mmmm,” Klaus agrees, not really listening.

“Klaus.” Ben bites.

“Sorry, sorry. Yeah?” Klaus’ eyes are hooded and droopy, but he at least makes the effort to look in Ben’s direction.

“Diego?” Ben reiterates.   
  
“Vanya!”

—

Klaus opens his eyes blearily, after a few false starts, to the image of Ben’s condescending lifted brow hovering over him.

“Oh,” Klaus groans, discombobulated by the early morning light, “It’s you.”

Ben forces a tight, smug smile.

“What was that?” Vanya asks over her bowl of cereal, looking up from where she’d been engrossed in her phone.

Klaus pushes himself up to lean against the couch, his vision swims a little. “Oh nothing, just…” He sighs and gestures noncommittally, “Yabberin’. You know me.”

Vanya’s lips are a hard line, her brow is pinched in concern. “Did you want me to make you some eggs?”

Klaus pushes the heel of his palms into his eyes. His head is pounding.

“Klaus?” Vanya repeats, softly.

“Mmm? Oh. Yes. Eggs!” He replies breathily, then meets her eye and flashes a brilliant smile. “Breakfast. Most important meal of the day. —Hey, I don’t suppose you have any coffee?”

The corner of Vanya’s lip lifts in a small lopsided smile. She heads back into the kitchen.

Klaus’ mouth feels full of cotton, his ears ring. This isn’t the first time he’s woken up in Vanya’s apartment with little to no memory of how he got there. That doesn’t make it any less disorientating.

Vanya returns with a hot, black cup of coffee. She hands it over apologetically, “Sorry, no soy milk.”

“Pfft,” Klaus verbalises with a non-committal gesture. Accounting for a creamy coffee in spite of his lactose intolerance is not really included in his priorities when he rarely eats a meal everyday in a week.

He relishes in the warmth between his hands, taking a long deep whiff before he sips it. “Oh, I love you, I love you, I love you.” He chants softly, maybe to Vanya, maybe to the coffee.

Ben smiles fondly at Vanya, whose mouth quirks in a rare smile, visibly amused with Klaus. 

Vanya doesn’t speak much when she lets him stay. (Not like Diego, who punctuates his stony silences with careful questions. Then, fine-combs through Klaus’ generally dismissive answers for any little clue that he’s going off the deep end again.) In return, Klaus tries his best not to intrude on her space too regularly. He really only sees her once a year at most.

It’s been harder to ask Vanya for help, after reading her book. Not that he did it much in the first place. He’s always thought of her as mostly harmless; willing to be a shoulder to whine on in a pinch, but largely unbothered by Klaus’ general whereabouts and happenings. It never occurred to him that he existed to her beyond mornings like these. (At least, not since they both left the academy.) He hadn’t realised his recklessness effected her beyond occasional embarrassment and inconvenience. 

Now, whenever Ben tells him to call her, Klaus can’t help but think about when he wolf-whistled, and gave a standing ovation, at her third college recital. (He’d meant to go to the first one, which he was invited to, but he loses time sometimes, and he missed it.) She’d wrote about it in her book. How he’d heard a lull in the music and misinterpreted it for the end of the performance. He’d stood up too early. In his defence, he’d been doing a lot of coke at the time. Eager to show his support, he’d even called out a cheer of “Go Vanya!”, which apparently encouraged an onslaught of ensemble stares.

She talked about how mortified she felt being singled out. How her hands shook through her solo after he’d been asked to leave the theatre. How she’d spent weeks practicing day and night only to have her nerves ruin her mark. 

_It felt like using a single spoon to carve just enough space for myself to exist in, only to be reminded that that space was still within their shadow._

Not one of their siblings cared enough to show up when she asked. When she didn’t want them there, Klaus only showed up with reckless abandon and made light of something very important to her. He hadn’t meant to, he was just high enough to lack any self-awareness. And well, that was sort of the problem. 

When Klaus had read that part of the book he’d had to turn to Ben to clarify that it had really happened the way she described it. His memory is patchy a lot of the time, and though he vaguely remembered wanting to go see her play, he wasn’t confident on the details.

Ben didn’t say anything, but the way his brow furrowed worryingly at Klaus’ question was confirmation enough.

She’d gone on to write about not knowing how to handle Klaus. The reality of his addictions were that, in theory, she knew he was struggling. But in practice, Klaus was somewhat of a human tornado. He didn't slow down enough for her to be able to offer any meaningful help. His visits in her life were sporadic. His presence then absence was jarring — albeit unintentionally, marked by a careless disregard for Vanya herself, and the life she was trying so hard to make outside the academy. All they really served was the knowledge that he was still alive, and to reignite the worry she felt for him. A worry which often dampened with distance and time apart.

_It sounds horrible, but once I saw Klaus on the street and walked the other way. It's one thing to see him strung out on my couch, but when he's on the streets it contextualises his life. I knew our father had cut him off a long time ago, but I hadn't realised what that would mean for him. When he's covered in bruises, struggling to walk in a straight line, talking to someone only he can see, it's hard to hold a conversation with him. Not only because he rarely offers up his undivided attention. But also because I'm reminded of how vulnerable he is. I'm reminded that there's nothing I can do to help him. He's not in my life if he can help it. He wouldn't accept help if I tried -- Not real help, and not from me. He'd rather destroy himself than make a concerted effort to get better. And he does. It's hard, when someone you love is an addict. Being around them sometimes feels like watching a plane crash in slow motion._

Klaus can’t help but feel like he’s better out of her life than in it after that.

However hard it is bothering Vanya, it’s still easier than asking Diego. Klaus has taken Diego’s kindness and run off with it too many times to count. While he would usually feel okay about stretching Diego’s limits on occasion, a couple of months ago he’d driven him to a breaking point:

After Vanya’s book came out, Klaus dove head first into a reckless disregard for his own well-being in the name of staying high and keeping out of his siblings’ way. Of course, Diego wasn’t so easily swayed to let him. Even if he had been infinitely more moody and quick to snap at Klaus since the book was released. 

Klaus knows Diego can, and has, overlooked a number of things in the name of keeping him off the streets. Namely, the odd $20 missing from his wallet and Klaus’ blackened bare feet on the coffee table he often eats off. It seems that two overdoses in two months and running off while healing from a pretty severe beating to hook up with his reliably-violent ex is not on the list of things Diego can tolerate.

There was a lot of yelling. 

On Diego’s part, anyway. Klaus was mostly laughing. 

Angry Diego was fine. Angry Diego, Klaus was used to. Klaus had learned to be familiar with Angry Diego the first time he stole from his squirrel fund to break a 30 day sobriety. 

It was when Diego’s voice turned desperate — _“I can’t watch you do this shit anymore, Klaus.”—_ that Klaus realised he might have pushed him too far. Diego had taken a deep, composing breath and scrubbed his face with the palm of his hand. Klaus stared at him, shocked-still. 

It was quiet for a few seconds, save for the leaky faucet in Diego’s bathroom. Klaus’ eyes flickered briefly to Ben, who sat tensely on the arm of Diego’s couch. He wasn’t sure how to proceed. Ben was usually better at these sorts of things.

Before he could garner a suggestion, though, Diego had collected himself. He turned his attention back onto Klaus. His eyes were serious. His voice was practically dripping with concern. “You know I’m here for you. Whenever you need, seriously. But I don’t know how to help you anymore, man. I come take you out of a bad situation and you go running directly back towards it every time.” Diego swallowed, and Klaus had known exactly what was coming.

They had stared at each other, and Klaus felt a physical sensation of dread digging a weight into his ribcage. He was such a piece of shit. “You need to get clean, Klaus. If you’re not even willing to try… I—” Diego cut himself off, not able to voice what he'd meant to say.

Klaus had understood anyway, so he said: “Yeah.” His voice quiet, stoked in the shame he always felt but rarely let surface. “Yeah, okay.” 

“I’ll take you to rehab tomorrow, if you want.”

Klaus nodded half-heartedly, eyes on the floor. 

“Good.” Diego’s head bobbed. His mouth was tensed unhappily, as if he was trying to convince himself that it would stick. 

Klaus knew it wouldn’t.

Being sober — It sounded great in theory, but in practice…. Well, how do you commit to something that requires self control when you don’t have any? 

Physical withdrawal symptoms were one thing, but functioning without anything to dull out all the background noise was another. He wasn’t capable of it. For Klaus, living with the voice in his head that pointed out all his failures was unbearable. He spent every second of his sober-life working towards outrunning it. Say what you will about Heroin, but it definitely works for that. 

Klaus bit his nails down to stubs waiting for Diego to fall asleep that night. His entire body was alert with anxiety, his heart palpitating uncomfortably in his chest.

Usually, Diego offering a ride to rehab included a lot more manhandling and lot less forewarning. The waiting around was uncomfortable. He felt trapped there. Diego lying behind him, and the hard surface of a concrete wall to his front. Diego wasn't very big on interior decorating. So, there wasn't much around to distract him from his thoughts. No matter what he did now he was an asshole. Either he was the asshole who let Diego down, or the asshole who got Diego's hopes up only to let him down later.

He could already feel the edges of withdrawal creeping into his body. The impending detox weighing over him was making it increasingly hard to stay put. Each symptom heightened by the knowledge that he mightn't be relieving them anytime soon.

In the end, he made it until five-thirty, when the beginnings of a sunrise first echoed in through the window.

He slipped out the door while Diego was still asleep. He didn’t come back.

The poor guy is really better off without Klaus in his life.

Klaus’ coffee is cold and mostly empty by the time Vanya speaks again: “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah,” Klaus sighs, a little rough from the come down. His smile stretches just a touch too wide. “I’ve been sight-seeing, y’know.Just last week I watched a street rat give birth! Mother Nature just keeps on giving.”

Her eyebrows scrunch in confusion, but her barely-there smile forms in a shy upturn of her lips. Quizzical as it may be, Klaus loves it when Vanya smiles. 

It’s quiet for a few passing moments, long enough to leave an awkward air to their conversation when Vanya asks: “Do you have any place to go, today?”

The truth is: No, he doesn’t. Klaus rarely has plans that span more than a few hours in front of him. Even then, they’re flimsy and changeable at best. It pays to be flexible when your survival depends on your ability to improvise. However, Klaus knows a hint when he hears one.

“Mmm,” He hums vaguely, “Why, you got a hot date?”

Vanya shakes her head in that small, reserved Vanya-way that she does. “Just lessons. Kids will be in an out of the apartment for most of the day.”

“Ah.”

The silence that sits between them is louder than silence ought to be.

“Guess that’s my cue, then.” Klaus continues, a little more animated. He shoots her a charming smile as he stretches out the length of his body until he’s standing, rake-thin and rake-tall.

Vanya’s lips press a worried line, like she’s debating whether or not to correct him. Eventually, though, her shoulders slump and she shrugs a quiet: “If you want.”

Klaus leans down and presses a kiss to Vanya’s cheek. “People to do, places to see, you know how it is.”

Vanya nods timidly. She seems to shrink with every retreating footstep. If Klaus feels guilty about that, well he’ll tell himself it’s better to disappoint her now than burden her later.

"See ya round, Vanny."

The thing is: It might be easier in all the practical ways to take advantage of people who love you, but it’s harder in all the ways that count. Klaus doesn’t want to stick around and face the aftermath.

Plus, it’s not like she’ll be thinking about him after today, and it’s not like he’ll be thinking about her when he’s three pills deep in a few hours.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm always looking to improve so constructive criticism and positive feedback are equally welcome! If you are so inclined, I'd love to hear your thoughts.


End file.
